


He Bids Good-bye to Distance

by 60r3d0m



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A little bit dark, Angst, Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), But only a little, Cock Warming, Come Marking, First Time, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Marking, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Dean Winchester, Praise Kink, Protective Dean Winchester, Purgatory Sex, Shameless Smut, Size Kink, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 14:12:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17561948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/60r3d0m/pseuds/60r3d0m
Summary: Maybe the reality is that heclingstoo much. Maybe he’s toodesperateand sometimes, that makes him unkind. Sometimes, he’s rough, because it’s purgatory, because every godforsaken monster wants Cas, wants his angel who’s had the misfortune of being stranded here with him, so he snaps. So he says,Hey, Cas, get the fuck over here, if Cas strays too far. He says,Damn it, Cas, if Cas takes a step too deep into the woods without him, and then he yanks, takes the angel by the hand, brings him closer and closer, and with hands on Cas' hips, he guides him.And then eventually, the true hunger of purgatory gets to Dean.





	He Bids Good-bye to Distance

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! It's me! I wrote this ages ago in order to practice writing smut, at which I am so terrible that even my friends have woefully informed me of that fact. I promised myself that I wouldn't ever publish this, but unfortunately, here it is because I love purgatory a little too much. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! Or cry! I'm so sorry :')

Maybe he’s too _needy_. Maybe he’s too _protective_ , the way he stops them on their path so many times a day, to run his hands over Cas’ face, to rub his thumb across his temple or his cheek, just so he can be sure that it’s not a new cut that’s erupted there, not a new bruise, not a new hurt that Dean needs to worry over.

But there’s always anxiety wrenching his gut.

There’s always _fear_.

He’s only himself when Cas is in his arms.

Cas, for his part—Cas is _good_ to him. Cas knows what eases his heart. There’s no resistance when Dean pulls him in, whenever he crushes Cas into an embrace, whenever he presses his full weight into him, the only goddamn thing he can do to show his uncontainable relief. Cas doesn’t protest when Dean asks him often (too often) if he’s okay. _Are you hurting, Cas?_ Dean says. _Are you tired, Cas?_  and, _I’m okay, Dean_ , Cas answers, and sometimes, when Cas says that, he sways on his feet, and then Dean pulls him down, and they rest, Dean against a tree trunk, Cas leaning with his back against Dean’s chest while Dean holds him.

Maybe the reality is that he _clings_ too much. Maybe he’s too _desperate_ and sometimes, that makes him unkind. Sometimes, he’s rough, because it’s _purgatory_ , because every godforsaken monster wants Cas, wants his angel who’s had the misfortune of being stranded here with him, so he _snaps_. So he says, _Hey, Cas, get the fuck over here_ , if Cas strays too far. He says, _Damn it, Cas_ , if Cas takes a step too deep into the woods without him, and then he yanks, takes the angel by the hand, brings him closer and closer, and with hands on Cas’ hips, he guides him.

It’s not any better at night. It’s not better because it’s worse. It’s more dangerous, all of those nocturnal creatures rising, those hungry for blood. Or maybe it’s because he’s the only one who has to shut his eyes at night. Maybe that scares the hell out of him because he can’t watch over Cas, can’t make sure that there isn’t another monster out there hunting him. So he lies down with Cas beside him. He pulls Cas in, snug against his chest, wraps his arm around his waist, and he keeps Cas safe like that, Benny roaming the woods behind them, Benny keeping vigil.

But then there’s a strange sort of hunger that purgatory burns into him.

It doesn’t happen right away. He doesn’t feel it then, not when they first find Cas, not even two weeks after it. The first few nights are tense. The first few nights, Dean’s not sure how much he can touch him, how openly he can show his frantic, frantic concern. But eventually, it doesn’t seem to matter. Eventually, maybe it’s the purity of this place hidden so far into the abyss that lets Dean let go of his reservations, lets his emotions run wild, and the first night that he asks Cas to sleep with him, it’s still spoken with a fluttering and nervous heart.

For a while, it’s good like that. For a while, Dean's content with tangling their legs together at night, sleeping with his nose pressed to the crook of Cas' neck, mumbling promises into his skin ( _I’m gonna get you home_ ). For a while, it’s all he needs, whispering sweet nothings, rubbing soothing little circles into Cas’ fingers one by one. 

But then the true hunger of purgatory gets to Dean.

It happens in the mornings. It happens when Dean wakes up hard and aching against Cas’ backside, day after day. Cas never mentions it, never tries to get away but lies there quietly until Dean’s just awake enough to start the day’s trek, and Dean wonders if maybe angels wake up like that, too, if Cas is tenting in his pants, the same morning wood, and his mind wanders, just in those early moments of waking, before he focuses back on the monsters.

At first, Dean’s embarrassed. At first, when it happens, Dean mutters an apology and jerks away, is bothered the rest of the day, and when he touches Cas then, he’s careful. He doesn’t get too close. He brings distance between them, acts gentle for fear of seeming like the very predators that haunt these woods.

But days go on and pass them, and Dean’s resolve starts to break down.

Maybe protection becomes possessiveness.

He bids good-bye to distance.

Maybe it’s his fault, he reasons, when he wakes up, turned on again for the umpteenth day, days that he can’t even count anymore because they’ve been here so long. Maybe it’s his fault that Cas never moves away, because Dean’s always holding onto him so tight all the time, too unwilling to let go, terrified that to lose sight of him would be to lose him altogether.

But then Cas touches him one morning.

It’s when Dean’s awake. It’s when he’s gone past drowsy wakefulness, when his eyes have been open long enough that Cas knows that this is already unusual, that Dean ought to be scrambling with the dawning sun, not panting softly against the back of Cas’ neck. Not fighting the goddamn desire to grind his dick against Cas’ ass, to run his hands over him, to watch his face contort with pleasure as he convulses around Dean’s cock.

Maybe Dean’s gripping his waist too hard, nails digging into the hard muscle of Cas' hips. Maybe Cas hears him swallow down his lust, but Cas exhales then, reaches back with a shaking hand and fumbles until he comes down to rest it over Dean’s cock. Soon enough, Dean’s unzipped, hot and hard between Cas’ fingers, and he just waits, waits to see what Cas will do because he's too afraid of making the wrong move.  

But it’s when Cas undoes his own pants that purgatory truly gets to him.

He doesn’t know what washes over him. Only that he’s overwhelmed with desire, the most aroused that he’s felt in ages. He’s saying things—he doesn’t know what, but endearments slip from his lips all too easy, names that he’s used with a hundred different women ( _god, Cas, baby, sweetheart_ ), but when they twist his tongue this time, he licks his lips when he realizes that he means all of them.

They sound so sugary in purgatory. They sound like something from the mouths of monsters.

It takes a while to spur himself into action. He would’ve thought it easy, that sex would be second nature, but out here, there are too many things to be wary about—of Benny, of all the other creatures, whose curiosities have already been piqued, by the angel and human who shouldn’t be here, doing the dirty, who maybe are the true monstrosities of this place.

Maybe it's that, maybe it's this instinct to keep it hidden, because he pulls Cas’ discarded trench coat over them like a blanket, makes sure Cas is covered, away from hungry eyes, or maybe it’s just _him_ , and this is a way to possess Cas and keep him as his, as _Dean's_.

Maybe that’s what takes so long.

Or maybe because it’s _Cas_.

It’s slow. He presses as close as he can. He lets his cock graze Cas’ ass, over his entrance that seems far too small to take him. He spends an eternity running his hands over him, accustoming Cas to his touch, kissing him to satisfy the hunger that suddenly seems bottomless. He kisses the corner of his chin, wonders and wonders what it would be like to explore the softness of Cas' entire mouth.There are kisses that he presses to his ear, kisses to his jaw and temple, kisses to his neck and wherever else he can reach him, their clothes an infuriating layer that Dean needs off.

But they won't. They won't take it off. Not when they have a thousand eyes on them.

Cas is tight. Cas lets out a shaky breath when the first finger breaches him, closes his eyes and says softly _Dean._ Dean goes gentler, murmurs prayers into Cas' neck, but all he hears is the swallowing, the gasping, his _own_ breathing gone ragged, his _own_ control lost _indefinitely_. He slips his knee between Cas’ legs to open him up a bit more, and Cas is just as tense around the second digit that Dean squeezes into him, and maybe that’s when all of it gets to him—that he’s gonna be Cas’ first, that maybe they’re defying heaven this way, the dirtiest union condemned.

When Dean tries to push the head of his cock in, Cas whimpers. Cas makes little pained noises, groans, _It hurts, Dean_ , and it takes all of Dean to pull himself together. He jerks away, presses a kiss to Cas’ neck, to Cas' sweaty temple, tells Cas  _I don’t need this_ , tells him that even though Dean thinks he  _does_ need this, thinks that maybe the hunger will drive him mad, if he has to keep himself from him, and that creates a pit in Dean's stomach that feels incurable.

Some dark part of Dean wonders if he could stop himself at all.

But maybe because pain is the only thing that makes them feel alive in a place where everything’s dead, Cas leans back against him when he stops moving, begs and begs for him to keep going, until Dean's grunting as he finally pops in, until Dean's incredulous and dizzy, doesn't know how to take it.

After that, it’s still slow. After that, Dean rubs a hand up and down Cas’ arm, tells Cas how pretty he looks stretched out around him, how warm and tight he is, as he coaxes his cock into his ass bit by bit. Cas lets so many sounds escape his mouth as he’s split open, sounds that are beautiful and godly, sounds that Dean’ll remember even years later, sounds that he’ll come to late at night when Cas isn’t there and all he’s got is his own hand to get himself off.

Maybe Cas _knows_ this. Maybe Cas knows how loud he’s being, because he muffles himself with a hand over his own mouth, and then it’s Dean who lets out a moan that’s too loud.  _Damn it, Cas, damn it, angel, you’re so good for me_.

Dean tries to move. Dean tries but Cas is a fucking vice the way that he's clamped down around Dean's length. Cas is so goddamn warm and hot around his cock that when Dean’s finally sheathed inside, he has to stop because otherwise it’d be over just like that. So he huffs into the crook of Cas’ neck. Kisses his neck. Bites. Murmurs more praise as he scans their horizons while Cas quivers against him. For god knows how long, he stays and lets Cas warm his cock, searching for wandering eyes, telling Cas how good he is.

Maybe he waits too long because purgatory gets to them.

It’s Benny who tells them, running into the clearing yelling about leviathans. A flush makes its way across his features when he sees how close they are, what they’re so obviously doing, and Benny averts his eyes, makes himself busy even as Dean feels a fierce possessiveness make its home in his chest.

In his mind, he dares Benny to look. He dares Benny to _touch_. He knows if Benny did, the vampire would be taking his last breath, and yet a small part of him wants Benny to know everything, wants him to know that Cas is _Dean's._

When Dean pulls out, Cas lets a small sound escape his throat and his whole body shudders. Dean wants to bowl him over right there, wants to shower him with kisses, wants him to know the overwhelming feeling that's caught in Dean's throat (Dean thinks it's need, but maybe...maybe it's  _love_ ). He tries to tell him. He tries to do in the way that he squeezes Cas' shoulder as they scramble to their feet, in the way that he rights their clothes and grabs their weapons, but then they’re on the move again, both left wanting, both left hungry.

The rest of the day, Dean can barely think. Dean can barely protect them, has to rely on Benny’s eyes to do the hunting, because his eyes are only hunting Cas. He’s still aching, still needs Cas more than anything. He takes pleasure from watching him, feels the heat rush to his dick knowing that Cas only winces when he sits down because of _him_ , is walking funny because of _Dean_. It takes all of his will power not to knock him to the ground right there and then. It takes everything, everything, _everything—_ everything to keep himself from tearing Cas' clothes off and sinking into the heat of his body, fucking him raw until he’s begging for release, until he's begging for Dean to touch him, his _cock_.

Maybe Cas knows this. Maybe Cas knows how wild Dean's become in purgatory, because when he looks at Dean, he doesn't keep eye contact for very long, just darts away to stare at his feet as if he's afraid, as if...as if he's not _sure_ he can handle what Dean's _become_. Maybe Cas knows because of the way Dean's hands roam over his body the moment they get a reprieve from whatever's hunting them. Maybe Cas knows because within seconds, he's pinned to the nearest tree, the breath punched out of him, his body held up only by the sheer weight of Dean bearing down on him. 

 _Oh_ , Cas says, almost with surprise, as if he  _didn't_ know.

(But the truth is, maybe all of purgatory knows it).

Dean finds that out then, a couple of moments after he clasps Cas' jaw and kisses him for the first time. Cas groans, a deep rumble in his throat that echoes through Dean's lungs. Cas tastes like smoke and sky and god knows what else. Cas tastes like _power_ , like lightning, like storms and maybe it's what throws Dean off, that has Dean wondering why Cas is stumbling all over the place, weak and hurt when he's got the power of a thousand suns captured in his fists. Maybe it's because of that, why Dean's fingers seek to tangle themselves in Cas' hair, pull and tug, as if he can regain control like that. Maybe because if Cas doesn't need him anymore, Cas could  _leave_ him.  

And maybe it's _that_. Maybe that's what all of purgatory knows. Maybe word's reached every corner of this godforsaken place, that Dean's nothing if he loses his angel, so when that very moment the leviathans come swooping down, they taunt him, they rile him up, promise to fuck Dean's angel bloody, promise to take away the one damn thing that Dean cares about most. 

Dean kills them before they can get another word out.

Dean kills them because without Cas, he'd be lost.

That night, Dean’s too touchy. That night, Dean’s so impatient to start again what happened in the morning that they find shelter while the sun’s still setting, when they could go further, walk longer, but they don't. Maybe his hunger shows through because Benny doesn’t mention taking turns to keep watch tonight—he just says _I’ll be 'round the perimeter_ and then _Back at sunrise, brother,_ because maybe he knows that Dean’s not sleeping tonight.

This time, it’s Dean who’s greedy, who acts first. This time, it’s Dean who presses his lips to Cas’ ear, kisses his earlobe, nips and sucks, thrusts his hand into the front of Cas’ pants and cups him, whispers _Please_. Cas nods. Cas is a groaning, shuddering mess, eyes closed as he’s breached, still a little loose from the morning, and Dean can't help it. Dean gasps for every breath, struggles for it, because Cas—he’s the goddamn most beautiful sight that he’s ever laid eyes on.

Cas whimpers and Dean swallows his cries down with kisses. Cas arches his body, throws his neck back and Dean presses his mouth there when Cas tries to catch his breath. _Dean_ , he whines and they hold hands and face each other all the way to the peak.

It's then that Dean makes a confession.

It's then that Dean says it.

_I want us to grow old together._

When it’s over, they lie still together, exhausted, sated. He lies there with his head against Cas’ chest and Cas runs his fingers through his hair, caresses his body as if he loves _Dean_ (Dean can barely breathe for that word—who could ever love _him_?).

But somewhere in the silence, somewhere in that space where they cling together, maybe he listens. 

When Dean slips out, Cas eyes grow dark again. Dean gazes at him fondly, kisses him, kisses him, kisses him. But there's something about Cas then, something about the way that he's pressed into the earth, something about the way that his legs are still spread open, Dean's release leaking out, staining his thighs. There's something about it that has the possessiveness coming right back and Dean runs his hands over Cas' body, commands Cas to meet his eyes and Cas does.

 _You like that?_  Dean says when he pushes his fingers back into the entrance of Cas' body, fucks his come back into Cas' twitching hole and Cas digs his nails into his back and whimpers  _Yes_. Cas wraps his arms around him tight, gyrates his hips into Dean's hand, and Dean swallows then, awed completely, the knowledge that Cas let him do this to him, _sinned_  with him, and Dean maybe feels as if he has the power of the whole world in the palm of his hand (Cas gave it to him).

They pull together again, as if they could get any closer, and Dean buries his face into Cas' chest, whispers _Thank you_ , says that as if there's anything he could say, and Cas, that goddamn sap, he entwines their fingers together and tells Dean that he loves him.

It's so sincere that it has Dean flushing red.

They sleep together then, for real this time, but not before Dean marks him with a thousand bruising kisses, purple spots littering Cas’ neck in the morning, and Benny whistles when he sees them, says  _Don’t mind me,_  but his eyes rove Cas’ body in a way that has Dean wrapping an arm around Cas’ waist, rubbing little circles into his hips as if to tell Benny that _He’s mine._

The truth is, Dean is  _his_.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are always appreciated for effort, comments are cool, too, and once again, my sincerest apologies for this disaster. I'm really terrible at writing anything sexy~
> 
> On a totally other note, I keep thinking about Dean and Cas in purgatory, so I think I'll be adding a few more chapters! It won't be a full-fledged story or anything, but rather, a bunch of one-shots mostly featuring my favourite tropes and a lot of protective!Dean so you're welcome to subscribe if that rocks your boat. This story will always remain complete, so each chapter will be a story in itself without any cliffhangers. I'll just be adding more whenever I get a craving for these two in purgatory :P


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